


stay through winter

by LadyMerlin



Series: Me, You, and Akashi-kun [3]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff without Plot, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Not Beta Read, POV Akashi Seijuurou, Possessive Akashi Seijuurou, Romantic Fluff, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-06-07 08:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15214811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMerlin/pseuds/LadyMerlin
Summary: Watching Kouki sleep should not be so engaging, but there is something enchanting about the way his eyelashes cast trembling shadows on his cheek, about the way a dimple appears on just the right side of his mouth when he smiles, about the way he lets his guard down, even in front of Akashi.





	stay through winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thefrostyxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thefrostyxx/gifts).



> The title comes from a song called "Should This Noose Unloosen" by Civilian. I was going to name it sweater weather, but apparently even _I_ have standards. 
> 
> This was written entirely on my phone on my way to-and-from work. It has not been beta-read. Caveat.
> 
> Dear Thefrostyxx, I'm sorry I wasn't able to fulfil your exact prompt, but I hope you like this anyway! Part 2 is also dedicated to you (once I write the damn thing), because without me trying to force this one out, I'd never have thought of its potential sequel. Lots of love, LM.

The problem with being an observational savant is that very little truly intrigues him.

Basketball had drawn his attention for a while but even his interest in that has since waned, now that his university teammates – as unique and talented as they are – are less fascinating (sociopathic, neurotic, bizarre) than the Generation of Miracles.

He doesn’t mean to brag or put anyone down unnecessarily, but most things don’t pose a challenge for him and that makes them – well. Not boring, exactly, but certainly less worthy of his attention. After all, what use is his entire focus for an hour if he can process and conclusively deal with something in a matter of minutes?

Truth be told, Akashi is constantly on the hunt for things which need his attention, so that he can deal with them in the most brutally efficient manner possible. It gives him purpose, and also provides him with a training ground in anticipation of one day taking over Akashi Industries. He understands that running an international conglomerate on the scale of Father’s company is essentially a never-ending rote of problem-solving, and it would be a lie to say he isn’t looking forward to it.

His path is set and he does not wish to deviate from it, but that does not mean he cannot blaze down it, or burn brighter than his father ever did before. He intends to be ready for anything that comes his way, and nothing less than perfection will suffice.

None of that - and he means  _none_ of it at all - explains why he’s so fascinated by the way Kouki sleeps, knees curled into his chest, fists clenched close to his belly, and his head resting gently on the slope of Akashi’s shoulder.

Outside the sky is grey and flurried with snow and the wind is howling, but inside the cabin, the sound is muffled like the sounds have been smothered by a blanket. Kouki has long discarded his shoes in favour of sitting cross-legged on the seat, and his knees are definitely crossing the boundary between their seats, but Akashi does not mind. He does not cherish anything more than he does the simple press of skin against skin with no expectation of anything more. He cannot bring himself to care about the perceived indecorum, the way he knows Father would.

There is no one else seated in his private carriage. He will not force Kouki to keep up appearances, not when Akashi so enjoys the sight of Kouki’s ridiculous (adorable) Pokémon patterned socks, and the way Kouki genuinely seems to enjoy touching him where all others flinch away.

Watching Kouki sleep should not be so engaging, but there is something enchanting about the way Kouki’s eyelashes cast trembling shadows on his cheek, about the way a dimple appears on just the right side of his mouth when he smiles, about the way he lets his guard down, even in front of Akashi.

It’s _captivating_. In a moment of whimsy, Akashi considers sitting on his hands to prevent himself from reaching out and stroking the soft skin of Kouki’s cheeks and pressing kisses into the corners of his mouth. He wants to do those things and more, but Kouki is asleep, and even he knows that would be… crossing a line. Perhaps the other Akashi would not care, but he does.

This thing between them is still young and new, but he does not think it is fragile. There’s a core of understanding and strength to root them to the ground, and against all odds, Akashi has faith that this will last. He does not usually put stock in hope and chance, preferring to deal in certainties, but he wants with all his being for this to be permanent; for Kouki to be by his side forever. It’s too soon to say yet, whether they will stand the test of time, but he believes they will. He hopes. He will do whatever he can to make it happen.

The trip was supposed to be for business purposes only.

Ever since Akashi started at university, Father has been loading him with more and more responsibilities towards the company. Akashi knows that Father would have preferred Akashi skip his tertiary education altogether, as business owners did not require formal schooling, and Father himself had dropped out of school when he turned 18. But even _he_ had been forced to admit that the world was different now, and that Akashi might be looked down upon if he did not have a degree certificate to prove his intelligence.

That had been the perfect argument to make - no one was allowed to look down on an Akashi, no matter what, so he was allowed to pursue a relevant course of study at a sufficiently reputable university. The catch was, of course, that Akashi had to start working in addition to studying, the way he would have if he hadn’t gone to university at all.

That means that when his tentative-friends go partying on Friday nights, Akashi has to make conference calls to America and London and spend the rest of the weekend dealing with company duties in Tokyo. It means that when his classmates take power naps between lectures and tutorials, Akashi has to complete his assignments, because he can’t afford to study in the evenings when clients and customers may call on him to attend business functions or meetings. For the most part everyone is accommodating about his schedule, but it only takes one or two brazen idiots to throw off the delicate balance he’s struck.

It’s challenging, but in a tedious way, not an intellectual one.

Still, it’s... manageable. It’s not as carefree as high school, but he supposes attending Todai more than makes up for the inconvenience.

Not to mention, another point in favour of Todai is that it is attended by one Furihata Kouki, an engineering student of all things.

That means that every busy Friday night is made better by Kouki, lying belly-down on his bed while Akashi sits at the desk, feet in the air and tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on his coursework. It is admittedly distracting, but in the best possible way.

Akashi will admit (if hard pressed, and only to a handful of select individuals) that several nights have devolved into long hours of kissing, of straddling Kouki’s slim hips and Kouki’s strong fingers curled into the fabric of Akashi’s clothes, pulling him in closer even when there’s no threat of him ever going further away.

While he is relatively inexperienced, Akashi has discovered that kissing, like many other things, is mostly about a skilful application of pressure, and a mastery of soft-spots. 

Unlike other things, the kissing affects him too, just as much as it affects Kouki. Kouki seems to be made up entirely of soft spots and yet, a twist of his hips, a shuddering breath, and a languid moan are all it takes to bring Akashi to his knees. It’s remarkable. He adores it.

Akashi adores few things; he adored his mother, he adores his horse, and he adores the sounds Kouki makes when Akashi licks into his mouth and tangles their tongues as thoroughly as he can, a deep, wet exploration of Kouki’s mouth. Akashi adores the way Kouki’s hands rake hot trails up and down his back, the way he can feel Kouki’s heart pounding in his chest with excitement and not fear (a novelty), all through their respective layers of skin and clothes and skin.

Akashi loves - he  _loves_  the way Kouki says his name when he draws back to worry small bruises into skin at the base of his neck, on his collarbone or the front of his throat like a necklace pendant; like Akashi is a miracle; reverent, like his name is a prayer.

That’s why, when Father insisted he make a trip to Hokkaido in the dead of winter to Handle A Client, Akashi hadn’t hesitated to invite Kouki along. It wasn’t, contrary to popular belief, a dirty weekend away (Aomine would pay for starting that rumour), but rather just a chance to spend precious time together, uninterrupted by the hundreds of demands they faced.

Akashi asked Kouki to accompany him because he could think of no other person whom he’d rather spend time with, who could make an otherwise ordinary weekend extraordinary just for his sheer presence. In addition, Akashi knew that Kouki hadn’t been to Hokkaido before, and this was something he could make happen with relative ease and really, he didn’t see why he even had to justify it. He wanted to make his partner happy, and Kouki’s happiness would make him happy in turn. That’s all there was to it.

Still, Akashi is far too smart to think that Father does not know about Kouki, both in general and in relation to this trip. He is most certainly aware, and the only reason it has not been Discussed is because this arrangement suits Father’s purposes for the time-being. The moment he decides to marry Akashi off to a woman (or a man) of suitable pedigree with the right strategic connections, well. He’s going to have a fight on his hands, if his mother doesn’t descend from the heavens herself to strike Father down first.

The cabin rattles violently, shaking him out of his brooding and back into a reality in which Kouki is curling closer and closer to Akashi, like he’s huddling for warmth. It’s uncommonly cold outside, even for this time of year, and they can feel it in spite of the heating unit inside the cabin.

Kouki had been utterly delighted to see the snow in Hokkaido, and his joy had set off something inside Akashi too. The two of them had spent hours together, just romping through the snow and breathing in the crisp air until their socks were drenched and they were shivering. Akashi had initially worried that Kouki would catch a cold, but apart from the tip of his nose going adorably pink, Kouki had seemed fine and Akashi had resolved to let him enjoy the snow before they returned to Tokyo.

Besides, going out and getting cold meant that there was an opportunity for them to come back indoors and get _warm_ , with hot showers, fluffy towels, thick down blankets and good tea. Despite having to work on both days, it had been the most enjoyable weekend Akashi could remember having since his mother had passed.

His mother would have adored Kouki just as much as he does, not in the least for how happy he makes Akashi. He turns to look at Kouki, whose fingers are wrapped around his arm now, like he’s some sort of stuffed toy. It’s unbearably cute. Even though Kouki is a hair (and a bit) taller than Akashi, he looks much smaller in his sleep, and Akashi has to fight not to wrap his arms around Kouki and pull him into his lap.

Some deep-seated voice warns that it will be too much, too fast, that Kouki won’t accept it, but he quashes it with customary ruthlessness. Kouki has matched him every step of the way, inch for inch, never giving ground even as he stutters and blushes and ducks his head. It’s another thing Akashi adores about him.

As if he can sense Akashi thinking about him, Kouki hums and presses his cheek against Akashi’s shoulder, and Akashi again has to fight the urge to smother him with kisses.

He’s been told that he expresses affection either like an aged grandmother or not at all (Aomine will pay for his nonsense, one day), but there is nothing familial about the way Akashi wants to kiss Kouki. Affectionate yes, but familial no.

Kouki shivers a little and Akashi instinctively tries to pull him in a little closer. Unfortunately, the careless movement rouses Kouki, who smiles up at him with bleary eyes, creases pressed into his cheeks. He only seems to startle into full awareness when he realises the position he’s in. His cheeks go adorably pink but he doesn’t move away, and Akashi fights and loses (or wins?) a mental battle of his own.

He smiles back at Kouki and gives in to the urge to strokes his hair. Kouki’s eyes flutter shut and he relaxes, looking like nothing more than a cat being stroked. There are another four hours to go before they reach Tokyo, and they might as well be comfortable for the rest of the journey.

“Do you mind getting up?” Akashi asks, once he’s his fill (for the moment) of Kouki’s soft hair and warm cheeks and almost imperceptible shivers.

Kouki blinks again but shakes his head and fumbles into his shoes before getting off the seat. Akashi neatly toes off his own shoes (he can see Kouki’s eyes going wide from the corner of his eye at the indecorum - it makes him want to smile). He leans back against the cold window pane, stretches his legs along the length of the seat, and parts his thighs a little, making a space for Kouki, if he wants it.

“Would you like to?” He asks, pushing the words out because Akashis are never uncomfortable or shy, and he will not be the one to break this tradition. Kouki’s blush spreads all the way up to the tips of his ears and Akashi can’t help but wonder if Kouki’s ear lobes would feel hot against his lips. Kouki ducks his head, and nods, moving to sit in Akashi’s lap.

There’s a little readjustment required and it’s a little awkward at first, but eventually, they settle with Kouki lying on his side, hip in between Akashi’s thighs, legs stretched out between Akashi’s own. His hands are on Akashi’s chest and stomach, and Akashi’s arms are wrapped around him. Akashi draws his knee up behind Kouki’s back to give him support, and Kouki settles into him like he’s sinking into a hot bath, muscles going lax and soft. The shivering has eased significantly, but Akashi still drapes his coat around Kouki’s shoulders like a blanket, collar tucked around his neck.

It leaves him in the perfect position to kiss Kouki, so he does, pressing his lips and nose into Kouki’s thick hair, sweetly scented from his regular shampoo. Kouki responds by snuggling in closer, nuzzling into his chest with his cheek and the tip of his nose brushing against Akashi’s shirt buttons.

Kouki is surprisingly light and almost unnaturally warm against him, especially when compared to the bitter cold outside, and Akashi wonders if there’s a metaphor in that, something about how he’s thawing a frozen heart. He can’t imagine himself a few years ago – his _other_ self _–_ whether he would have loved Kouki like Akashi does now. Whether he was even capable of it, or if there was just a gaping void where his heart should have been. Maybe travelling in winter hadn’t been the best idea. This weather always makes him maudlin and dramatic, which is another thing he will only admit in the sanctity of his head.

“What are you thinking about?” Kouki asks, and it takes Akashi a split-second to focus back into himself. He’d thought Kouki was asleep.

He shakes his head. “Nothing, Kouki. I’m just enjoying this, being with you.”

Kouki wraps his arms around Akashi’s chest and squeezes. “Thank you for bringing me on this trip, Akashi-kun. I had a great time with you.” The strange thing is how sincere Kouki is, as if there is anything to be grateful for, as if Akashi would have begrudged a single smile or a moment of laughter.

“There is nothing to thank me for, Kouki. I had a wonderful time as well, and will be happy to have you with me whenever you are able.”

Kouki goes pink again and hides his face in Akashi’s chest, so Akashi lets it go, feeling nothing but fondness towards this boy – this man.

“Will you tell me a story?” Kouki asks, a quiet moment later. Akashi strokes the back of Kouki’s head and marvels. The wind outside howls, and inside it is still quiet. It is cold outside, but here they are warm. All of this is because of Kouki. There is only one possible answer.

“Of course. What would you like to hear?”

**Author's Note:**

> Is this irredeemable garbage? Yes.  
> Am _I_ non-recyclable trash? Also yes.  
>  Do I regret my choices? Not really (for the most part). 
> 
> I've been planning this fic for a long time (since like, March) but I was never able to get it right, no matter how many times I re-wrote it. Even this fic is totally different from what I'd first imagined, and only by the grace of the challenge Mods has it actually been written. I think it's probably important to mention that the follow-up to this also takes place on a train with Furihata and Sei-chan (instead of Akashi-kun). If I had to describe it in three words, I'd say "filthy train sex", so. Stay tuned, I guess?!


End file.
